


i want to love you (but i don't know how)

by LeoTheAvengingLioness333



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, PTSD!Bucky, and lots of bucky feels, and then it got long, healing bucky feat. wanda, other characters show up too but mostly it's just bucky, this was supposed to be short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 11:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11896593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoTheAvengingLioness333/pseuds/LeoTheAvengingLioness333
Summary: Bucky is healing. Wanda helps.





	i want to love you (but i don't know how)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, first, I meant for this to be short and sweet. Like just a couple thousand words with some Winterwitch cuteness. And then it got away from me. I swear, I'm becoming incapable of writing anything short and sweet. Second, I would've gotten this up a heck of a lot sooner if I haven't been having computer problems all summer. So, I have been a little absent, but I'm back!
> 
> There's honestly probably things I would change or add to this, but if I leave it any longer, I'll just end up adding another 10,000 words to it or something. Title taken from lyrics by Sleeping at Last's song "Neptune". (And are we really surprised at this point? I think not. Because I breathe Sleeping at Last's music)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Enjoy!

            When Steve formally introduces him to the team his eyes do a quick once-over of everyone. Bucky recognizes Sam from D.C. and Natasha from both D.C. and Odessa. He remembers pulling the trigger on her twice and notes how though her posture is relaxed, her eyes are cautious, watchful. Everyone else is unfamiliar, only recognizable from the pictures Steve has been showing him. Still, his eyes lock on one person in particular. _Wanda_ , he thinks her name is. She’s wearing a loose dress, a zip-up hoodie that’s a couple sizes too big and probably doesn’t belong to her, and standing next to a tall guy about her age who can’t seem to stand still. He figures that must be her brother, Pietro. Steve told him that they both have powers after being taken by Hydra. Bucky remembers tensing when Steve told him that, struggling to shove his own memories aside and focus on the good things in front of him.

            Everyone is pleasant enough as they greet him. He can tell that some of them are wary, as they should be. He knows it isn’t personal, still, he can feel himself shutting down, tucking into himself. He doesn’t say more than the necessary words, tries not to draw too much attention to himself. He can’t wait until he can go back to his room and just breathe.

            Wanda is one of the last people to approach him, her brother already at the door, but now turning in her direction. She waves him off, and Bucky’s not sure what to think of that. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Bucky,” she says with a soft smile. “Steve talks about you all the time.”

            Bucky looks at her for a moment, then to Steve, who’s cheeks are touched with the lightest shade of pink as he rubs a hand across the back of his neck. Steve meets his gaze and shrugs. “What?”

            Bucky shakes his head, half a smile on his lips. He looks back at Wanda and dips his head politely at her. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

            As she turns to go, she touches his metal arm—hidden under the sleeve of his shirt—briefly. He sees her jolt, just slightly, and her body stills, like she’s been shocked. Had he been anyone else he might not have caught it, especially given how quickly she shakes it off. She looks at him once more, as she’s heading out the door, her brother right by her side, and there’s something in her eyes that he knows will haunt him if he thinks about it too long.

            “Well, that could’ve gone a lot worse,” Steve says.

            Bucky gives a small nod, acknowledging Steve. “Yeah.”

His eyes are still fixed on the door where Wanda was standing moments before.

-:-

The first few weeks are the worst.

If he didn’t think he was well enough to be among people again he wouldn’t have let Steve bring him here, but sometimes he thinks that maybe it was still too soon. He hardly sleeps, and often finds himself at the gym in odd hours of the morning to try and relieve the pain of his nightmares. And the nightmares, of course, happen every night. Sometimes he wakes and he’s not himself. He blacks out and wakes later, not remembering anything, with Steve at his side. The first couple times that happened Bucky remembers seeing Steve hurt—a black eye the first time, a bloody lip the second, a bruised jaw the third. Every time that happened the guilt nearly tore him apart. Steve, of course, reassured him each and every time that he was okay. Still, even a couple days later when Steve was healed, Bucky still sees the marks. He still feels his finger squeezing the trigger in D.C.

The others are still getting used to them. They’re polite enough and he knows they’re trying, but there’s times he knows that they’re avoiding him. He doesn’t blame them. He would do the same. He can’t shake the feeling of blood on his hands either. Sometimes it feels like it’s embedded so deep into the rills of his metal arm, like all it would take is enough pressure and the limb would start leaking blood. _It’s gonna take time._ That’s what Steve keeps telling him. He knows that. He’s trying. Kind of. He came here of his own will, but it still scares him, what he’s done. What he could still do.

Despite the nightmares and the blackouts and the awkward encounters with the rest of the Avengers and the nearly irresistible urge to just _run and run and run_ and never look back, things start to settle into a routine. Bucky starts to feel a little more comfortable. He knows it’s probably because he starts to get used to being in the compound, and the others get used to having him there, but he likes to think it’s because of Wanda. Steve, too, of course, and his determination not to give up on Bucky, but Wanda has helped a lot.

It doesn’t take him long to realize that she understands him. Maybe because they’re one in the same.

It starts one night during a week that it’s just him and the twins on base. Steve, Natasha, and Sam are all on a mission overseas, and Rhodey and Vision are at Stark Tower in the city helping Stark out. Of course, while they’re all gone Bucky blacks out. He remembers going to sleep, vaguely remembers the nightmares, pushing and pulling and clawing at his mind, and then nothing. He wakes suddenly, eyes snapping open. It takes him only a second to realize that his door his wide open, light from the hallway flooding in, casting strange shadows and beams of light across his room. Then he senses the presence of someone else. He moves, sees eyes flash red briefly before he registers that the person is Wanda, and not Steve like usual. He moves slower this time, sitting on the edge of his bed, breathing hard, watching as the glow in her eyes slowly diminishes, the red light around her outstretched and ready hands dissipating.

“I’m sorry,” she finally whispers, shattering the fragile and heavy silence. “You…you blacked out. I felt you—your presence, I mean, and Steve’s not here, so I came…”

She trails off and Bucky watches her for a moment longer. She’s still standing, wearing a loose black top and cropped leggings. He wonders why he doesn’t feel more alarmed. He read her file, has listened to Steve explain her powers, and knows that she wouldn’t have to move a muscle to get into his head. And yet, he can feel his racing pulse slow, his hands slowly unclench from around the edge of the mattress.

“I, um…” he pauses, and she stills, waiting, watching him. “Thank you, Wanda.”

It feels nice to use her name, and she must think so, too, because she relaxes and her mouth twitches upward just so.

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry if I scared you,” he says. “Did I—did I hurt you?”

She shakes her head, sitting down in the chair that Steve usually occupies. “About the only thing you damaged was your lamp.” She glances in the direction of his trash can by the door, where Bucky can see broken pieces sticking out. “I cleaned it up, so you don’t have to worry. There’s not even a broken shard left to get cut on.”

He smiles a little at that, then breathes out slowly. He rubs his human down his face. Ducking his head to avoid her eyes, he clasps his hands together in front of him. “I’m sorry, I, um, thank you again.”

He cringes inwardly at his awkwardness. In his two months here, he’s never interacted with her this much. They’ve shared glances, greetings in passing, and meals occasionally, but Bucky has mostly kept to himself. And now he doesn’t know how to talk to her.

But she just shrugs it off. “It’s not trouble, really. I was already awake.”

That makes him curious. He lifts his head. He’s read her file so he knows a little about her past, but still, he wonders what could have her up at this hour.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she says by way of explanation, like she could see the question in his eyes. “Nightmares. And then I felt you, so I came to check on you.”

“What do you mean by that? Felt me?”

Wanda gives him a wry smile. “I, um, it’s kind of hard to explain, but everyone has this… _presence_. An aura that I can feel. It’s unique to everyone, sort of like a fingerprint. A lot of it comes from emotion, what the person is feeling, sometimes what they’re thinking. I can tune most of it, but now I live with people who all have very strong auras, so sometimes it’s hard.”

“I take it I have one of those strong auras?” Bucky can only imagine what kind of emotions flood off him.

Wanda nods. He notices her hands in her lap, like him. Her nail polish is chipped and she’s still wearing all her rings. “Yes, you…you have an incredibly strong presence. That’s how I knew something was wrong. It’s like you have two different auras, and when you’re… _not yourself_ …it feels more angry, I guess? That’s not quite right, but it just feels different.”

_Primal,_ Bucky thinks. That’s how he views the Soldier. He’s all instinct. As the Soldier he has a set goal and he will do anything, hurt anyone, to get what he wants. He swallows. What Wanda is explaining makes sense. He wonders what his presence feels like—what kind of aura Bucky Barnes has. He imagines it’s not a very happy one.

“Have you ever, um…I mean—have you ever—?” he stops, struggling to find the words, how to ask her, but her face softens in understanding.

“Read your mind?” she finishes for him. He nods, feeling slightly embarrassed. “No,” she says, twisting the hem of her shirt in between her fingers. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m sorry,” _god,_ he feels like all he’s done is apologize, “I shouldn’t have asked, that was rude of me.”

She shakes her head. “It’s okay. You’re not the first to ask, so I’m used to it. I will admit that sometimes people’s thoughts are really loud and I pick up on them. Or if I’m really relaxed, sometimes when I’m sleeping, I slip into people’s heads without realizing it. I pick up on it fairly quickly and leave before they notice anything or before I can get much more than impressions, but I would never purposefully read your mind.”

She pauses, looking like she wants to say more. Somewhere in the back of his mind Bucky notes how pretty she is. And how old she appears, despite her younger age.

Wanda doesn’t look at him as she speaks again, “I know that because of my power people fear me. They worry about what I’ll do to them. I worry sometimes, too.”

Bucky’s heart clenches in his chest at that. It’s then that he realizes _yes,_ he and this girl are far more alike than he’d originally thought. He thinks back to that first meeting in the hangar bay, wondering what she felt when she’d brushed his arm, wondering what she feels even now. Bucky looks at her, scrambling for something to say, but ultimately coming up with nothing. She seems to understand, though.

Wanda stands, smoothing down the front of her shirt. “I should go.”

He nods. He doesn’t have it in him to tell her that he finds her presence soothing, doesn’t have it in him to ask her to stay. He’s not brave enough for that. Not tonight.

She stops in the doorway, turns to smile at him. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

She’s already gone, but he whispers to the dark anyway, “Goodnight, Wanda.”

-:-

Bucky sees Wanda all the time after that. She says hi to him more and more, often with a smile as they pass each other in the halls. They still exchange few words, but it’s a comfortable sort of semi-silence. And he doesn’t think he needs to tell her how grateful he is for that night—he’s pretty sure she already knows.

Still, they’re growing closer, and it’s easy to tell.

            Bucky thinks it’s because of the late night run-ins they have with each other. He shouldn’t have been surprised the first time it happened, just two weeks after that night in his room. She had told him then that she had trouble sleeping, but it still shocked him a little when he came out of his room, trying desperately to banish the lingering details of his nightmare, and saw her sitting at the kitchen island, hands wrapped around a mug of tea.

            “Hey,” he greets her quietly, so as not to startle her.

She turns on her stool to look at him, smiling. “Hi.”

Bucky should’ve known then that he was screwed, what with the softness of her voice, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the twinkle in her eye and the loosening of her shoulders, like seeing him suddenly made everything better even though they were both up so late because of the thoughts plaguing their minds. From that night it just progresses. It’s most often just the two of them, though sometimes they’ll hear shuffling around base. Wanda will lean towards him then, voice dropped low. “It’s Steve.” Sometimes she tells him it’s Natasha. Sometimes it’s even Sam. He’ll see Steve or Natasha down at the gym sometimes, but he finds himself going to the kitchen more and more now that Wanda is often there waiting. It’s not all the time. Sometimes it’s just him in the silence of the kitchen, sipping on a cup of coffee to try and warm himself after the chill of his nightmares, of his memories.

            Wanda is usually drinking tea or reading a book until she gets sleepy enough to go back to bed. Bucky just sits with her quietly, enjoying her company and the way she soothes his mind with just her presence. She’s tried to have him drink tea, especially the nighttime stuff, but he’s not much of a fan. “ _More for me then,_ ” she’d laughed the last time he’d tried it. He appreciates the gesture, though, and he wants to reach out in the same way. So he starts bringing her books.

            He liked to read before the war, and during it. Ever since the train and the fall…well, Hydra wasn’t real good about letting him have books. But since breaking free of their control in D.C., he’s started up the habit again. He started a small collection of his own before coming to live with the other Avengers, and it’s only growing. Whenever he finds a good one, he brings it to Wanda, and she always thanks him with a brilliant smile and a recommendation of her own.

            One night he comes in, sees her curled up on one of the couches in the common area, reading. It’s been six weeks since that encounter in his room, and he finds himself smiling when he sees her. It’s been four days since he’s seen her up, and he’s glad that she seems to be sleeping well.

            “You know,” Bucky teases quietly when he approaches, “Your brother never seems to be up at this time.”

            Wanda smiles warmly at him, closing her book. “That’s because Pietro sleeps like the dead.”

            He sits on the other end of the couch, curiosity burning on his tongue. “Does he get nightmares, too? I mean, you two have been through everything together…”

            Wanda doesn’t seem at all offended by the question. Though, her eyes glaze over a little and he has the sudden urge to reach for her hand. She gives a little shrug. “Pietro handles things differently, I guess. He shoves all his emotions down, or at least tries to outrun them.” She smiles a little wryly at that. “He’s constantly trying to be the big brother and not worry me, so he keeps quiet about it. But I can always tell when something is bothering him.”

            “Is that another powers thing?”

            Wanda smiles, and he likes that it’s a little bit mischievous. “No, just a twin thing.”

            Bucky laughs, then, and it’s so genuine he finds unable to stop for a moment. He waves a hand, “Sorry.”

            “Don’t be,” Wanda says. When he finally gets his laughter under control, he finds that she’s watching him, green eyes bright. “You seem good tonight.”

            He nods. “I’ve definitely been worse, that’s for sure.”

            She’s had to witness a couple of those nights. He’ll come out of his room, and stumble his way into the kitchen for a glass of water, hands shaking, face sweaty because he can still feel his nightmares pressing down on him, suffocating him. She usually follows shortly after, finds him sitting with his head in his hands, and just sits with him quietly until he finds it in him to crawl back into bed and try and get some more sleep. He hasn’t blacked out since that night in his room, but he knows that the next time it happens, she’ll be right there with Steve at his side.

            “Do you want me to make you some tea?” he asks. Just because it’s not his drink of choice doesn’t mean he hasn’t been paying attention to how she makes it.

            Apparently this occurs to her too, because she looks surprised for a moment, before her face lights up. “Yeah, I would really like that.”

            Her smile is even brighter when he hands her a steaming mug, and Bucky lets himself sit a little closer to her on the couch this time, wishing that every night was as good as this one.

            -:-

            Two months later he has another really bad night. It’s his worst one in a while. Wanda had been helping a lot. Not just in the odd hours of the night, but during the day too. They started training together, eating more meals together, and overall just spending more time together. Steve, Natasha, and Sam tease him about it. Steve also tells him that he’s glad the two of them have grown to be friends. Pietro is less thrilled, but Wanda has assured him that he actually likes Bucky, he’s just being an overprotective older brother. Still, he should’ve known that something bad was bound to happen soon enough.

            He wakes, screams muffled by his pillow, which he nearly rips in half with his metal hand. At the very least, he definitely hears some seams tear. When the screams stop, he takes a few deep breaths that shudder deep in his chest. His cheeks are wet from tears he doesn’t remember crying. “ _Shit_ ,” he mutters, the word coming out as a half sob. Slowly, so slowly, he comes back to himself. The nightmares retreat to the shadows of his mind, sure to reappear another night. He untangles himself from the sheets and pads into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He blinks his eyes against the harsh florescent lights as they flicker on. Turning on the faucet, he cups his hands under the stream before leaning over and splashing his face a couple times, the cold water helping to soothe his heated skin. He runs his hands through his hair, tucking the damp strands behind his ears.

            Bucky startles when he hears a soft knock on the bathroom door. He opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. Then, Wanda’s voice is calling out, “Bucky?” A pause. “Bucky, it’s me.”

            He stills, exhaling slowly. The water is still running. He can’t seem to move his hands from where they’re clenched around the edge of the sink. If he squeezes any harder his metal hand will probably crush the porcelain.

            “Bucky, I’m coming in.”

            He doesn’t move, doesn’t make a sound as Wanda opens the door and steps inside. He stares at the water swirling down the drain, listens to her soft footfalls as she steps further into the bathroom.

            She whispers his name again, and he can sense how close she is a second before she reaches out and touches his right arm. Her fingers are warm, but comfortably so. With her other hand she turns off the water and the bathroom is suddenly too quiet. He’s still not looking at her even as he feels his panic rising in his chest again. Memories start to push at his mind, howling to be let out, to take over. He starts to shake. But then both of her hands are braced against his arms and she’s turning him to face her and Bucky finally brings himself to look at her.

            Wanda’s eyes give him a quick once over. If she’s at all uncomfortable with the fact that he’s still just wearing his boxer briefs, she doesn’t say anything. She’s wearing sleep shorts and a t-shirt, hair not too horribly disheveled and he thinks that she must’ve been up already. He watches as she brings her eyes back up to his face. He can tell she’s worried, but she’s hiding it well.

            She reaches up and cups his face in her hand, and Bucky doesn’t realize he’s been crying again until her thumbs brush away the tears. He clenches his jaw, brings his hands up and circles them around her wrists, slowly pulling them away from his face and dropping them back down by her sides.

            “I’m sorry,” he whispers. He nearly laughs. His voice still sounds just about as terrible as he feels. He clears his throat, shaking his head a little. He feels like he apologizes to her every time something like this happens, but he doesn’t want to burden her, or make her carry anymore worry or guilt. She carries enough of it already.

            “Don’t be,” Wanda tells him. “And I was already awake, so don’t feel bad. I heard you and I just…I was worried.”

            Her voice is so earnest, eyes shining beautifully bright, and Bucky folds in on himself. His shoulders collapse forward. Wanda reaches for him again and this time he lets her. She pulls him to her, tucking her head under his chin. He wraps his arms around her. Bucky can’t remember the last time he’s let anyone touch him like this. Even Steve knows enough to keep his distance sometimes. But a hug like this….the feeling of being so warmly in someone else’s arms…it’s strange and he knows it’s been decades since he’d been embraced like this. The last time he can remember clearly is saying goodbye to Steve at the Stark Expo in 1943. That was a different time, a different person. He knows that there is no way he could ever get that man—that _boy_ —back. But here, with Wanda’s arms wrapped around him, head resting against his bare chest, he feels slightly more human.

            “I can still feel it,” he whispers, not sure at first if he’s spoken out loud. “All of it. Everything they did to me. It scares me so much…it would take one word, one wrong step, and I—I’d be that _thing_ they made me into,” he pauses, voice shaking. “I just…I can’t fucking bear it sometimes.”

            Wanda’s arms wrap tighter around him. She’s so warm. So unlike everything he’s been used to for the past seventy years. Hydra, the cages and cryo tanks they shoved him into, their words and commands, their hands across his face, the metal arm they attached to his body, it’s all so cold. But Wanda…she is warm and bright, _glowing_ with life despite what they did to her. Her voice is soft as she speaks, and it soothes something deep down in his soul, “You’re not a monster, Bucky. What they did to you, what they made you do, that’s not your fault.”

            It takes him a long moment before he can respond. “I know. But the blood is still on my hands. And I don’t know how to fight that feeling sometimes.”

            Wanda pulls back, but doesn’t let go completely. One hand travels downward, fingers sliding in between his human ones. Her eyes are gentle, shoulders loose. She looks so relaxed, so beautiful, and for a second Bucky forgets to breathe. She lifts her other hand, places it over his heart. “You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

            Bucky smiles, squeezes her hand. He doesn’t know what to say, and he wonders if it shows on his face because she grins and gives a little laugh. The tension releases from his shoulders and he realizes that he’s a little bit in love with the sound.

-:-

            A week later she finds him in the kitchen. He’d stumbled out of bed and managed to put some sweatpants on, but now he’s standing in the kitchen with no shirt, no socks, hand trembling around a mug of coffee.

            “Bucky?” His back is to her as she calls out softly, much like she did the other night when she found him in his bathroom. “Are you okay?”

            It takes him a moment. He takes a breath, swallows, and carefully sets the mug down before he drops it. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good.”

            He turns, movements just as cautious. He feels that if he moves to fast, reacts too soon, he’ll snap right back into predator mode. He’d been seconds away from a black out when he woke up, and right now that’s the last thing he can take.

            She’s wearing her sleep shorts again, long legs bared, sleeves of her sweater pulled down over her hands as she approaches, like she’s afraid she might do something too. He pushes his hair back from his face with his metal hand, and she watches the movement. Slowly she walks until she’s a foot away from him, eyes scanning over his body, and landing once again on his metal arm. Normally he’d be uncomfortable under the scrutiny. He’s careful around the others, about moving too quickly, about moving _wrongly_ , so as not to make them think he’s about to attack. They’ve all started to relax around him, but sometimes he can still feel the stares, can feel the burn of their stares on the metal hand that has taken far too many lives. But Wanda’s eyes are soft, curious, but not uncomfortably so. There’s a level of understanding in her gaze that when she reaches her fingers out, and hesitates, meeting his eyes, he nods, letting her know it’s okay.

            Bucky swears he stops breathing for a second as Wanda touches his arm. He can’t feel as he does with his human arm, so there’s no pain, no tingles running up the metal skin, just pressure. Her touch is gentle as it runs over the rills slowly, methodically, taking her time to study the artificial limb. He wonders, given her powers, if she can sense anything from his arm, like that first time they met. He wonders if she can tell how much blood he’s shed with it, how many lives have been extinguished, crushed between his fingers. His heart beats loud in his chest, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word as Wanda continues her exploration. Her lips are parted, the tiniest furrow in between her brows. Her fingers move down his forearm, over the back of his hand, fingertips lingering on the ends of his.

She uses both hands now to turn his over, palm facing upward. If she had been touching his human hand, his fingers probably would have twitched given the way she was skating her fingers over the smooth surface of his metal one. She moves her hand higher, more slowly, all the way up until she’s touching the faded red star on his shoulder joint. He swallows hard. Her eyes find his, seeking permission. He nods just so, an answer to her silent question. He tries to prepare himself as she moves her hand to the edge of the artificial limb, tracing her fingertips over the puckered line of scarring where metal meets flesh. Still, her touch, so gentle and careful, shocks him into stillness for a few seconds. He takes a breath to steady himself.

Wanda always handles him with such care, and this is no different. It never feels like pity, or like she’s doing it because she’s afraid of him, but rather because she understands him. She understands what Hydra put him through to some degree, because they subjected her to horrible things as well, so she treats him kindly, exactly the opposite of how his handlers and the other Hydra scientists and agents did. Perhaps it’s that realization, that Wanda _cares about him_ , that makes the haze from his nightmares vanish completely, any sign of an imminent blackout long gone.

Wanda finally drops her hands, pulls the sleeves of her sweater back down over them. She looks up at him bashfully, and nervously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She gestures to his arm, twisting her mouth. “Sorry, I, um…I shouldn’t have just…”

Bucky shakes his head as she trails off, offering her half a smile. “It’s okay. I didn’t mind.”

Her posture relaxes. “Do you hate it?”

The question surprises him because no one has ever asked him how he felt about the arm. Yet, he still knows the answer. “Sometimes. But I can’t change what I’ve done, and it’s a part of me no matter how much I hate it. So I try to accept it.”

He pauses, unsure if he should ask the question now hovering on the tip of his tongue. A few months ago, he probably would have been too shy, too scared to do so. But now, after weeks of Wanda seeing him at his absolute lowest, he figures they knew parts of each other that no one else did. So he asks. “Do you ever hate your powers?”

She tilts her head to the side. “I used to. And maybe sometimes I still do. But, like you said, they’re a part of me and I can’t change that. Now that I’m surrounded by people that love and accept me, it’s been a lot easier to accept myself too. Even the parts that I didn’t used to like.”

Bucky nods, satisfied. They stand there for a moment, and Bucky realizes that though they’ve been spending more time together, most of their encounters are like this. Late at night, experiencing those dark parts of each other. And maybe it’s the fact that she can touch him without him feeling uncomfortable or afraid. Maybe it’s what she said about having people care about her, realizing that she cares about him. Either way, he decides to reach out again.

“Wanda?”

“Hmm?”

“I, um…” words fail him for a moment, and he rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “Steve thinks I’m ready to start doing training for some trial missions before I get back in the field. Steve’s been gone more often, and I’m still not sure if I trust myself around the others completely yet to spar with them, so I was wondering if you would want to do some training tomorrow morning?”

Her smile is instant. “Sure. I’d love that. I could use the challenge myself.”

“Okay.” He’s smiling huge, and hers only grows.

They stay up a little longer, chatting about training, among other things. When she yawns for the third time in two minutes, Bucky tells her to get some sleep. She laughs a little and nods her head in agreement. Then she reaches up on her toes and presses a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Goodnight, Wanda.” He watches her leave, still smiling. His fingers almost involuntarily reach up to touch his cheek, and he realizes he’s actually _excited_ for morning to come.

-:-

Their sparring session goes really well.

At first he was nervous, having lost some of his confidence in the hours of sleep he got between the night before and that morning. But then they fell into a steady rhythm and his nerves vanished. Wanda wasn’t as experienced in hand to hand combat as he was, but he’d been doing it for years. Decades. Though, from what she tells him about her training sessions with Steve, Natasha, and Sam, they work her pretty hard and she’s been doing well. Anytime he gets a little too close to hitting her too hard she easily blocks him with her powers, the glowing red tendrils of power easing his fists away from her body so he misses, or stopping them altogether. It startles him the first couple times she does it, and he apologizes profusely for nearly hurting her, but after just as many times soothing his worries, he stops apologizing. He trusted her enough to ask her to train with him, he has to trust that she wouldn’t have said yes if she couldn’t handle herself.

By the end of it, they’re both sweaty and panting hard. She tosses him his water bottle and he hands her a towel so she can wipe her face. “Not too bad, right?” she says, smiling as they make their way to the locker room. Her ponytail sways a little as she walks and he decides he likes her hair up like that.

“Not too bad at all,” he agrees, meaning it.

“Steve will be gone again tomorrow, so meet here again? Same time?”

“Sure.” He stops just short of the locker room door, and she turns to look at him. “Thank you again, for doing this with me.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiles and her eyes light up. “I’ve got to meet Natasha and Pietro after this, to go over some stuff for our citizenship applications, but I’ll see you at lunch?”

He finds himself smiling too. “Definitely.”

After that, they spar more and more often. A couple times Bucky caught Pietro eyeing them disapprovingly from the other side of the gym when he came in to train. Wanda has told him before that Pietro likes him just fine, that he’s just overprotective, even though Wanda can clearly take care of herself.

“He’s trying to loosen up a little, now that we’re in a safe place,” Wanda pants, blocking one of the punches he throws her way, trying to block the hand with the hard foam practice knife at the same time. “But he can’t seem to shake the overprotective habits. He worries that you’ll hurt me, even though I’ve told him you won’t.”

“Well,” Bucky breathes, twisting around her and grabbing her from behind, “he’s not completely wrong. I could hurt you. Even accidentally.”

Wanda goes down on one knee, throwing him over her shoulder, but Bucky twists smoothly, landing on the balls of his feet in a crouch before smoothly standing up and landing a light blow to her side with the knife. Realizing her mistake, Wanda steps back, and he lets her take a breath.

“You’re right, though,” he tells her quietly, pushing the hair that had fallen out of its bun away from his face. “I would never hurt you. Not on purpose. But that doesn’t always mean I completely trust myself around you either. Pietro has a right to be worried. Until I’m a hundred percent, you all do.”

“I’m not scared of you,” she replies defiantly, taking a step towards him.

“I know that,” he insists, reaching an arm out towards her, “I do. I’m just saying that—”

Bucky doesn’t have time to finish his sentence before Wanda is lunging for him, grabbing his arm and kicking his legs out from underneath him. He lands hard on his back, the breath momentarily knocked out of him. He’s so surprised he doesn’t even have time to react before she’s got his right arm pinned down, her other hand holding her own practice blade to his throat. She’s smiling triumphantly over him.

“Don’t let your guard down, _ever_ ,” she says, panting a little still. “Isn’t that the first rule of fighting?”

Bucky chuckles, breathing hard. “Yeah, I guess it is. I must be getting old if you can catch me off guard like that.”

She laughs, still hovering over him. Bucky’s heart was beating wildly in his chest, and he wasn’t sure that it was completely from their sparring. He can’t—he can’t remember the last time he’d felt this way. What exactly he was feeling, he wasn’t sure. But he knew that Wanda made him smile and laugh, _a lot_ , and it had been a very, very long time since he’s been happy like this. _Happy_. It was a damn near foreign concept to him at this point. But yes, Wanda made him _happy._

“What is it?” she asks, noticing the shift in him.

“Nothing.” He smiles. And he keeps smiling, unable to stop. “Just…it’s a good day.”

-:-

It’s been a month since he and Wanda started training together, seven since he first arrived on base. He’s been doing much better, and Wanda is a big part of that. Ever since they started spending more time together during the day, their nighttime encounters have been less frequent. He still gets nightmares, of course. He knows those will never stop. But, he thinks they haven’t been as severe. He hasn’t been at risk for a blackout in a month, which relieves him, as well as Wanda and Steve. Seeing him spend so much time with Wanda eases the others too, he thinks. They don’t seem as on edge around him anymore. Somehow, slowly, this place, the people, it’s all starting to feel like home.

He’s having one of his better nights when he wakes to the sound of his door slowly opening. He’s awake immediately, one hand reaching for the bedside table drawer where he keeps a gun. He moves slowly, hoping not to alert the intruder to his conscious state. Who would be attacking them? Shouldn’t the alarms be going off? Where—?

“Bucky?”

And just like that, he relaxes. He sits up, reaching over to turn on the lamp next to his bed. “Wanda,” he says. She’s hovering in the doorway, wearing an oversized sweater. She keeps twisting the sleeves between her fingers, and he can see sparks of red power dancing around her hands. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Her chin wobbles a little, and her eyes shine, but she blinks the tears away. _Fuck_ , he hates seeing her like this.

“Bad dream,” she responds, still not moving from the doorway.

He dips his head in understanding, chest losing some of its tension. _She’s not hurt, that’s good_ , he thinks. Before he can think twice, Bucky is shifting over to one side of his bed, making room for her. It’s probably not rational. He’s been doing better, but he could still hurt her, he could still be putting her in danger by inviting her in like this. But the haunted look in her eyes is one he’s seen in the mirror far too many times. He can’t just leave her like this.

She hesitates, maybe sensing the doubt rolling off him, but after a few more seconds she pads forward quietly. As she gets closer, Bucky sees that she’s only wearing underwear beneath her sweater. His heart does a somersault in his chest, and doubts of a different kind worm their way into his stomach. Wanda’s beautiful. He’s noticed it before, but now, in this moment, when he’s not weighed down by a million other worries, his attraction to her feels so much more real.

Before he can overthink it, Bucky pulls the covers aside so she can climb into bed. As she settles in, she already seems more at peace. “Thank you,” she mumbles, already drifting off to sleep.

He lays back down, and switches the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. His voice feels tight in his throat. “You don’t need to thank me,” he whispers. “You’ve done more than enough for me.”

His eyes adjusting to the dark, he waits for her reply. It takes him a moment before he realizes she’s already asleep. He sighs through his nose. He’s unable to fall asleep for a little while, his mind racing a mile a minute. Wanda makes him happy, makes him feel more normal than he has in a long time. But she also makes his heart beat a little faster when she gets close. His stomach gets knots of butterflies whenever he thinks about meeting up with her in the morning to train. It terrifies him. The last time he felt this way about someone was before the war started. He’d been a different person then, and the feelings he’s having now are almost strange. He doesn’t really know what to do with those feelings. He doesn’t want to risk hurting her, doesn’t want to risk being intimate with someone when he can’t even trust himself part of the time. But he also can’t deny that she means a lot more to him than he ever thought possible.

It’s terribly ironic. After all the horrible things Hydra has done to him, to her, it seemed to at least be good for bringing them together.

-:-

A month later Steve asks him if he wants to go out on an actual assignment. He’s been training more rigorously the past two months with Wanda, as well as with Steve when he can, running through practice missions, and physically he’s ready. Mentally, emotionally, he still has his doubts. But Steve must think he’s ready if he’s asking, so he says yes.

He’s double-checking his gear with Steve by the quinjet when Natasha and Wanda walk through the double-doors at the other end of the hanger. Steve gives a subtle nod in the girls’ direction and then looks at Bucky.

“Training with you has really helped Wanda,” Steve says quietly. “She’s quicker, more confident.”

“It’s helped me a lot, too,” Bucky tells his friend.

Steve gives him a smile. “I know. I’ve noticed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve shrugs, holding his hands up in surrender. “Nothing, nothing.” A pause. Bucky waits for him to say more. “You two have been spending a lot of time together. I’m glad.”

Bucky frowns. “She understands. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

Steve looks unconvinced.

“She’s just a friend,” Bucky insists.

            “Whatever you say.” Steve is grinning hugely, and Bucky has to resist the urge to throw him into a headlock for being such a punk.

            “Don’t even start with me, asshole.” Bucky gives Steve a pointed look. “What about you and Romanoff?”

            Steve opens his mouth to say something, but then Natasha and Wanda are smiling at them as they approach. Steve closes his mouth again, the slightest tinge of pink coloring his cheeks. Bucky smiles triumphantly.

            “Where’s Sam?” Natasha asks, looking at Steve.

            “Already on the quinjet,” Steve responds, back in Captain America mode.

            Natasha nods, then looks over at Bucky. “Hey, Barnes.”

            “Hey, Nat.”

            The redhead smiles, then turns and heads onto the jet, Steve following close behind.

            “You ready?” Wanda asks him as they follow the others.

            Bucky takes a deep breath. “I think so.”

            “Natasha told me it should be pretty straightforward,” she says. “And I’ll be by your side the entire time.”

            He smiles as they’re buckling themselves into their seats. “Thanks, doll.”

            Her responding smile is so big and bright that his heart nearly stops in his chest. He wonders briefly if she can sense what he’s feeling. Wonders if maybe she feels the same way.

            -:-

            The mission goes smoothly. Until it doesn’t.

            They’re in a ten-story office building in Manhattan that a Hydra cell had bought out to use as a front for some of their underground operations. Steve and Natasha take the lower levels, while Bucky sweeps the upper floors with Sam and Wanda. Their intel suggested the building would be mostly empty of hostiles at the time of entry, so it would be easy to complete the mission objective. That is, to gather intel for the big take down later. It definitely wasn’t a five man job, but since it was his first real mission out in the field, Bucky understands the need for precaution. If he’s being honest, he feels better having an extra Avenger or two around should things go south.

            He was doing well, too, until they hear the commotion coming from above. He, Wanda, and Sam are on the eighth floor, about to head up to the ninth, when footsteps— _a lot of them_ —sound from the stairwell. Bucky’s hands are lifting his gun before his brain makes the connection. But then the door is opening and a dozen Hydra agents are spilling out of the stairwell and he doesn’t really have time to think about it anymore. There’s a moment—probably only lasting a few seconds, but feeling much closer to half a lifetime—when they all stand and look at each other. The Hydra soldiers are all wearing heavy tactical gear, rifles at the ready across their chests. Bucky spots a couple soldiers glance at his metal arm, recognition flashing in their eyes.

            “ _Soldat,_ ” one of them says quietly, breaking the tense silence.

            And maybe that’s what starts it. But Bucky doesn’t really have time to think about that either before the Hydra soldiers snap back into action and raise their weapons. Wanda throws up a shield of red energy just as they open fire. Bullets rain down, bouncing harmlessly off the shield. The noise still isn’t quite enough to drown out that one word, whispered on an exhale of breath.

            _Soldat._

            Soldier.

            Bucky’s hands clench tighter around his gun. His human hand trembles. His metal one stills against the weapon. Steady. His head is pounding, and the scene around him starts to feel like it’s a million miles away. From somewhere next to him he hears Sam speak, “Wanda, do you think you can push them back? I saw a conference room down that hallway. We can barricade ourselves in there until Steve and Nat get up here.”

            “Yeah.” Red flashes. “Yeah, I can do it.”

            “Okay. Barnes, on my mark you’re gonna—Barnes? Barnes!”

            “Bucky?”

            He hears her voice first, understands that she said his name second. It takes him a moment, but he’s able to focus, for the time being at least. “I’m okay,” he tells them. “I’m okay.”

            He’s not. His head still feels like it’s caving inward. That word, _soldat_ , bouncing around inside his skull, knocking other memories loose. He tries to clamp down on them. He has a mission to complete.

            Sam relays his orders again and Bucky nods. The moment the chatter of gunfire slows, almost stops, Sam calls out, “Now, Wanda!”

            Wanda cocks her arms back before thrusting them forward again, a new blast of bright red energy surging from her palms, hurtling towards the Hydra soldiers. The energy stuns them, knocking all of them on their asses. “Go, go!” Sam urges, pushing Wanda and Bucky ahead of him. They race down the hallway, making a sharp right into the conference room Sam was talking about. The second Bucky is over the threshold he’s pivoting, raising his weapon and covering Sam as the other man barrels towards the door, the first of the Hydra agents on his tail, fingers on triggers. The first bullets come flying towards them, smashing into the double doors and adjacent walls. One makes it past Sam, whistles dangerously close to Bucky’s ear. Panic surges up inside of him, his breath quickening.

            Suddenly he’s in Azzano again.

            Bullets are whizzing past his head, explosions going off inches from his heels.

            _Bucky, behind you!_

He takes a step forward, to reach for his fellow teammate. _Sam,_ he wants to say, _behind you._ But the words don’t come. Sam is stepping over the threshold as, seventy years ago Bucky is stepping out of a foxhole, right into Hydra’s hands.

            Bucky is shaking. He sees Wanda slam the doors shut with her powers, sees Sam start to pull chairs away from the long conference table and barricade them against the doors. His mind is a million miles away as more bullets slam into the thick wood of the double doors. They don’t quite break through, but it’s only a matter of time.

            He tries to focus on something else, _anything_. He picks the skyline visible through the floor to ceiling window on the opposite side of the room. But the lights in the dark remind him too much of Hydra’s tanks, with their awful energy cannons. He remembers the heat of the blast, the ringing in his ears as rough hands drag him and his unit away. He remembers different, clammier hands on his during the inspection. _Yes, yes this one will do marvelously._ He can feel needles prick his skin, can feel fire in his veins. His gun clatters to the ground. Bucky drops to his knees.

  1. _32557038._ He repeats it over and over in his head, trying to ground himself, trying to remember everything he can so he doesn’t slip away. _My name is Bucky. I’m from New York. My best friend is Steve. My name is—My name is….My name…._



“Bucky? _Bucky_?”

            “Come on, man, you got this. Just…just breathe, all right?”

            “Bucky, Bucky listen to me. Listen to my voice.”

  1. _32557…325…_



_Sergeant Barnes._

There’s a hand on his metal arm. Red energy pulsing at the door, twirling around the fingers braced against his shoulder.

            _Bucky! No!_

“Bucky.” She licks her lips. “James, listen to me. Just breathe. _Breathe,_ Bucky.”

            He tries. Fails. There’s not—there’s not enough air—

            “Steve, do you copy? Come in, Steve. Steve, I’m trapped with Bucky and Wanda on the eighth floor conference room. Could use a little assistance right about now.”

            Pounding over and over and over—

            The hand on his metal arm again. “You can do this, Bucky. You can fight it.”

            _Sergeant Barnes. The procedure has already started._

The hand moves from his arm to his cheek. There is no red this time. “James, look at me. _Fight it._ Just one breath at a time.”

            Her skin is warm.

            He tries again. Inhales. Exhales. And does it again. And again. He’s sweating, human hand shaking terribly.

            _You are to be the new fist of Hydra._

            “No,” he mutters. His teeth clench, and he shakes his head to the side. “No, no, no.”

            “It’s okay, Bucky. It’s okay. Just keep breathing. I’m here. I’m here.”

            Sam’s shoulders are tense. “Wanda.”

            Her teeth clench together too. “I know, Sam, I know.”

            Red flashes again, but he keeps breathing. He has to push back at the black cloud gathering in his mind. He can’t— _he can’t_ become the Soldier.

            “Steve is on his way up, but I don’t know how much longer this door is gonna hold.”

            As if in response, there’s the sound of splintering wood as bullets make their way through.

            “Shit. _Shit._ ”

            The noise is louder now, and he feels his focus start to slip. _Breathe_ , he has to breathe.

            “I—” he chokes on the word. “I can’t. Wanda, I…”

            Her name comes to him, from somewhere in the back of his mind, and it anchors him for a moment. He knows Steve. He knows her too.

            “What’s your name?”

            The question startles him.

            What’s his name? _What’s his name?_ He runs through the possibilities. James Buchanan Barnes. 32557038. _Soldat._

“Bucky,” he nearly sobs. “My name is Bucky.”

            He sees her smile. And the darkness ebbs away a little bit.

            “My name is Bucky, my name is Bucky.” He repeats it like a mantra. He breathes it. He’s still on his knees, but slowly, oh so slowly, he starts to come back to himself. He digs his metal fingers into the floor to ground himself as he begins to break out of the haze of his near blackout. He shakes his head, then looks at her. This time, though, he _sees_ her. He knows her. Bucky lifts his human hand, finds her hand and squeezes it tight.

            “Wanda,” he breathes.

            She smiles again, and he’s able to ground himself a little bit more. Enough that he nods, and after a moment of hesitation, she steps away and puts her full focus on barricading the door with Sam. The wooden doors are slowly falling apart, eaten away by the hailstorm of bullets, but splinters and bullets spark harmlessly off her magic as Sam calls Steve on the comms again to update him.

            It seems like hours as Bucky struggles to push himself to his feet. He’s shoving the bad memories back into the dark corners of his mind, shaking as he stands. He moves carefully. He’s sweaty and exhausted and feeling like he could break again at any second, but for the moment he’s pushed the blackout away. _He fought it_. No trace of the dark cloud at the back of his mind. Just the wispy scraps of memories floating around in his brain, but those too he has shoved back. He bends down and picks up his gun.

            He meets Sam’s eyes and nods. Then he looks at Wanda. She’s focusing her magic on the door so her back is to him, but the slight shift in her shoulders tells him that she feels his gaze. He doesn’t know if she can pluck thoughts out of thin air, but he knows she can feel his emotions, especially given how heightened they still are. _Thank you_ , he thinks, hopefully loud enough that she can hear it.

            He doesn’t have time to see if she reacts because there’s more commotion outside the doors. Through the cracks in the wooden doors Bucky sees the flash of Steve’s shield. There’s more gunfire, both from the Hydra rifles and from Nat’s pistols, and then silence.

            “Sam, all clear,” Steve calls out.

            Wanda drops her energy shield, and helps Sam clear the chairs away from the half ruined doors. Steve pushes the doors open, eyes scanning over the three of them. His gaze falls on Bucky last, and Bucky is pretty sure he looks awful. He knows what his best friend is seeing—Bucky, sweaty and pale. But he’s standing, and Steve seems to take this as a good sign, so despite the worry gouging lines in between his eyes, he nods.

            “Not many hostiles on sight, huh?” Sam says, giving Steve a pointed look.

            Steve chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. Hill’s sending in a team to clean up, so what do you say we get outta here?”

            “You don’t have to ask me twice,” Sam mutters, pushing through the door first, Steve and Natasha following close behind.

Bucky falls to the back with Wanda. She lays a hand on his arm, gives him a soft smile. And he understands the silent gesture. _You’re welcome._

-:-

When they make it back to base, Pietro is there waiting in the hanger bay, immediately rushing to Wanda’s side as she steps off the quinjet.

“I’m okay,” Bucky hears her murmur as her brother pulls her in for a hug.

Bucky leaves her to walk down to the infirmary with the others. They’re all fine, physically, but Helen Cho and the other doctors are very adamant about post-op check-ups. And Bucky knows at the very least he could use it.

Helen is checking his vitals when Steve comes over to stand by his exam table. Steve crosses his arms and looks at Bucky. “What happened?” he asks. There’s no judgement in his voice, just honest concern.

“I almost blacked out,” he replies quietly. “Wanda…she helped pull me back. But it was real damn close, Steve.” He ducks his head, mutters under his breath, “Too fucking close.”

He braces his hands on his knees. Helen has a quiet, peaceful presence, but he knows she’s listening, gathering any information she can to better examine him. He doesn’t mind. He’s spent enough time with Cho for his check-ups to be comfortable enough around her. What’s harder for him to handle is the weight of Steve’s gaze. He knows his best friend doesn’t blame him for what happened, even though it put both Sam and Wanda in danger. No, Steve has never blamed him for what Hydra did to him. But Bucky still feels ashamed. He’d thought he was ready to go out in the field.

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” Bucky tells him. “I guess I just wasn’t as ready as I thought.”

Helen finishes and steps across the room. Or maybe she’s just giving them some space, Bucky isn’t quite sure. Steve gives a slight shake of his head, lays a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “All the trial missions we went through went really well. You’ve been training for months and months. I think whatever happened…”

Steve trailed off. Because try as he might, Steve didn’t really have a good explanation for this either. Bucky had almost blacked out, and put his teammates in danger in the process. Bucky feels his eyes start to burn. He doesn’t know why he’s getting so upset. He should be at least a little proud of himself for breaking out of his imminent blackout. But the fact that he almost blacked out in the first place is what’s frustrating. He thought…well, he’d had his doubts about his mental state still, but Steve, Wanda, they had both seemed so confident in his ability to go out on a mission. He feels like he let them down. He wants nothing more than to be a part of the team. Because at the very least it means that he’s in a good enough place to run missions with everyone else.

“Look,” Steve squeezes his shoulder, gives him a look that makes Bucky relax. This is his friend speaking, not Captain America. “It was one mission, and we knew there were risks. The important thing is that you _didn’t_ black out, and nobody got hurt.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Buck.” The tone of Steve’s voice makes him stop. “It’s okay. Sam and Wanda don’t blame you for what happened. No one does. We knew this was going to be a long recovery road. So we’ll do some more training once Helen clears you, and in a couple weeks we’ll try again. Okay?”

It takes him a minute, but then Bucky slowly nods. “You think I’ll be ready for another one so soon?”

Steve smiles a little. “I thought you were ready this time. I still do. There weren’t supposed to be that many Hydra agents at the building and I think…” he rubs a hand down the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Either way, I believe in you, Bucky. You’ve been doing really well, and I think a little more training and you’ll be even more ready to get back out there.”

Bucky isn’t sure if he deserves that much trust, that much confidence. But he has to remind himself that he has Steve back now. He has people who care about him, a roof over his head. He’s _home_ now. He knows Steve can see the tears burning in his eyes when he says, “Thanks, Steve.”

“End of the line, right pal?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, followed by a wobbly laugh. “Yeah. End of the line.”

-:-

Two months later they’re celebrating Steve’s birthday. Steve insists they’re just celebrating the Fourth like everyone else because he doesn’t like the attention on his birthday—or, rather, the attention on the fact that Captain America’s birthday is on the Fourth of July—but that doesn’t stop Natasha, Wanda, Maria, and Laura from putting together a party out at Clint’s farm. Even if they weren’t celebrating, Bucky would’ve been smiling. Three days ago they got back from a mission overseas, his first since that initial, near disastrous one in the city. Steve thought he was ready a month ago, but Bucky had decided to play it safe this time, and give it a few more weeks. He was glad he did. They’d extracted intel, beat some hostiles, and made it out safely, all without Bucky feeling like he was going to blackout. He’d stayed himself throughout the whole thing, and well, that felt like reason for celebration.

It’s a small group of them. Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, and Vision were in the city doing their own celebration. Not that he doesn’t like the others, but Bucky appreciates a smaller crowd, and he thinks Steve does too. Or at least his friend likes being out of the city. It seems like far less pressure out here on the Barton’s quaint little farm. Bucky is standing on the Barton’s porch, beer in hand, watching the kids chase Steve and Pietro around the yard. Natasha and Laura are sitting on lawn chairs, watching the scene. Laura whispers something to Natasha and Bucky sees the tiniest hint of pink creep into her cheeks before she looks over at Steve, a fond twinkle in her eyes. Bucky shakes his head and chuckles a little. He’s been watching those two dance around each other for months. Though, he’s probably not much better himself. He just about stops breathing when Wanda and Maria come outside, Wanda carrying a two year old Nathaniel in her arms. She’s already smiling, but it only grows when she sees Bucky.

“Nate just woke up from his nap,” she says by way of greeting. Sure enough, the boy is still rubbing his eyes a little sleepily, his light brown hair sticking up in odd places. Once he sees his siblings, though, running around the yard, he perks up a little more. He squirms in Wanda’s arms. “Down, down.”

“Okay, okay,” Wanda laughs, obliging. She takes Nate’s hand and helps him down the steps and over to his mother, Maria following and taking up a seat next to Natasha.

Bucky watches for a moment longer, his eyes locked on Wanda. She and Laura laugh, watching a toddling little Nate make his way through the grass towards his brother and sister. Pietro sees him, dashes over and snatches the boy up in his arms, which makes the kid giggle. It’s a beautiful sound, and he can tell that everyone is entranced by it for a moment. Bucky sees Steve and Natasha lock eyes for a moment, before his gaze is almost involuntarily drifting over to Wanda. She’s already looking at him and Bucky feels butterflies explode in his chest. He finishes his beer, grabs a couple more chairs off the end of the porch, and then makes his way down to the others.

“Hey,” Wanda greets him, a gentle smile on her face.

He smiles back at her. “Hey.”

He sets out the chairs for them, Wanda taking the one next to Laura with him on the end. They sit and watch the kids for a while longer. Then, Clint and Sam are coming around from the side of the house, announcing they got the grill fired up. Everyone puts in their various requests for burgers or hot dogs. A few minutes later Steve is guiding the kids back towards the house. Pietro is carrying Nate again, and the boy is still smiling as he reaches for his mother.

“Coop, Lila, go get cleaned up before dinner,” Laura tells them, and the kids race off towards the house, Steve grinning after them.

“You too, solider.” Natasha gives Steve a pointed look, but she’s got a smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Steve pulls a shit-eating grin, one that Bucky recognizes instantly. “Why? Afraid I smell?”

He starts to crowd Natasha’s space, but she puts a hand on his chest and pushes. “Yes! You’re all sweaty!” Natasha’s laughing, though, and Steve is too as he relents and pulls away, tossing Natasha one more toothy smile before he heads back to the house to clean up.

After he’s gone, Maria looks at Natasha. “I’m gonna go help Sam and Clint out. Steve can take my chair if he’d like.”

The look Maria gives Natasha as she gets up tells Bucky that, yeah, he definitely hasn’t been the only one to notice how close Natasha and Steve have gotten, especially in the last couple months. Steve comes back shortly after, freshened up and wearing a clean t-shirt. Laura says something about getting Nate all cleaned up and ready for dinner and helping the kids get plates and stuff for dinner, and while he knows she’s being honest, he knows it’s also an excuse to give Natasha and Steve some time to talk. Which they do, Steve striking up a conversation in seconds.

“Walk with me?” Wanda asks him suddenly.

Though he’s a little surprised, he nods. He and Wanda make a large circuit around the yard, walking at relaxing pace.

“I wanted to give them some space,” Wanda says once they’re out of earshot.

“You’ve noticed too, huh?”

She laughs a little. “Of course. I think about the only people who _haven’t_ noticed is the two of them.”

Bucky hums in agreement.

“They just need a little time. They’ll get there eventually,” she continues.

“You think so?” Bucky wants it to be true. Steve was his best friend, and even he and Natasha had the beginnings of a really good friendship forming. They should be happy.

“I do.” Wanda glances at him. “I can usually sense their emotions when they’re around each other because they’re so strong. They’re happy when they’re together. But they’re holding back because they’re both afraid. Neither of them feel like they deserve it. To be happy.”

            Bucky frowns. Steve, after all he’d been through, all that he’d sacrificed, deserved something for himself, deserved to be happy. And Bucky could see it—Natasha made Steve _happy_. Why they were holding back was beyond him. Before he can think of something to say, Sam shouts their names from across the field. Shoulders nearly brushing, Bucky walks back towards the house with Wanda at his side.

            They all get seated in various chairs or on blankets for dinner. Sam, Clint, and Maria bring out the food initially, and after that, Pietro often makes the run for people. He’s faster, and Bucky has noticed the guy can’t sit still for very long in the first place. They eat and drink and laugh, and the sun is setting as they’re finishing up. Bucky knows Clint bought fireworks for the occasion, because he and Laura weren’t taking the kids into the city to see them that year. Clint starts a fire as they wait for it to get dark.

            Only when the stars start twinkling overhead and the kids are practically buzzing with excitement does Clint get the wagon-full of fireworks from behind the barn. Bucky half expects him to have some handy trick prepared for lighting them with his bow or something, but he just pulls out a lighter. Walking a little ways out into the field, Clint smiles at his kids, before tucking the rocket into the grass and lighting the fuse, quickly walking a safe distance away.

            They wait on the edge of their seats as the flame crawls down the fuse. Bucky doesn’t realize he’s gripping the arms of his chair so hard until the blast goes off and he hears a slight groan in the metal part of the armrest. But he’s startled….he hadn’t realized…he can feel his breath getting a little quicker. He has the sudden urge to duck down, cover his ears or his head…a reaction he hasn’t felt since the war. He risks a quick glance over at Steve and Sam. Steve’s still sitting next to Natasha, Sam next to Maria on a spread out blanket. Sam seems okay, eyes wide and watchful as he watches the colors rain down with a smile.

Clint is setting off another rocket as Bucky takes a closer look at Steve. He seems a little tense, his back straight and shoulders tight, but slowly, he can see his best friend starting to relax and enjoy the display. Bucky has to remind himself that Steve has had time to adjust to the modern age better than he has. Steve has been running missions for SHIELD and the Avengers and has seen his fair share of explosions and Fourth of July displays. Bucky knows fireworks don’t affect all veterans, and he thought he would be okay given the combat he’s been seeing since the war, but it’s different. And he doesn’t think he can remember a time when Hydra let him loose around the Fourth…maybe because of the fireworks but maybe because it’s Steve’s birthday as well, and they didn’t want to risk him remembering anything.

Another rocket goes off, screaming into the sky before exploding into bright reds and greens and purples. Clint sets off two more in quick succession, one showering gold sparks, the other silver. Bucky almost gets out of his chair when he feels a hand wrap around his. He and Wanda had switched places, so she’s on his right. Her hand is warm as it squeezes his human fingers. He wonders if maybe she sat on that side on purpose, so she could hold his human hand if need be, to give him that little bit of reassurance.

“It’s okay,” she whispers over the sound of the explosions. “Just focus on me.”

Bucky nods, takes a breath. He fought a blackout with her two months ago. He can fight this. He knows that no one will fault him if he has to leave, but he doesn’t want to. He wants to enjoy the fireworks, wants to look at them with wonder like everyone else.

“Look at the kids,” Wanda says.

He does. And it’s just about one of the best things he’s ever seen. Lila and Cooper are sharing the big blanket with Sam and Maria, pointing and laughing at the sky as it fills with showers of sparks. They let out gasps, their faces filled with complete and utter awe whenever their dad sets off a new one. Even little Nathaniel is staring, eyes wide as he smiles and reaches for the sky, like he might be able to pull the colors right out of the sky.

Amazingly, Bucky relaxes. He looks at the kids a moment longer, before turning his head towards Wanda. She’s smiling at him, still holding his hand. He thinks about Steve and Natasha, how happy they are around each other, how deeply he believes they both deserve that happiness. Well, Bucky thinks, maybe he should follow his own advice. Wanda makes him happy and holding her hand is just about the best feeling in the world.

-:-

He’s been at the Avengers facility for a year. The thought makes his chest swell. He can barely stop smiling because he never thought he’d get here. Or at least, back to a place where he feels safe and accepted. And, as much as it sometimes still scares him to think of something permanent, the place feels like home.

Two months ago he’d had that first successful mission, just before Steve’s birthday. And now he’s run a dozen more. There were a couple of those that he hadn’t been a hundred percent, but he still never got nowhere near as close to a blackout as that very first mission he was on. He was recovering. The nightmares would never go away, he knew that. Hydra had made lasting effects on him, but his blackouts were becoming less frequent, and his other symptoms he was getting better at dealing with. He kept journals, to write down things he remembered. He talked to Steve or Wanda if he was having trouble. The others on base, they had become his friends, his family, and the environment alone was enough to help him.

It was a pretty lax night. They were in between missions, all caught up on paperwork, so they’d all decided to take the night and just hang out since they were all on base. Everybody else was still in the common room, but wanting to enjoy the warm September night, Bucky had stepped out onto the balcony for a bit. He looks out past the facility, towards the green fields and lines of trees. Some of the leaves were starting to change, tinges of yellow on their emerald leaves. He pushes the sleeves of his Henley up, the evening sun glinting off his metal arm. He closes his eyes for a moment, just taking it in.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there before he hears the sliding door being pushed open. Before he even opens his eyes, he knows that it’s her. He listens to her soft footsteps, can feel her presence at his shoulder. Slowly, he opens his eyes and looks at her. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she echoes, smiling softly. “Was wondering where you went.”

He shrugs one shoulder. “Just wanted some air.”

“You okay?” she asks, a slight crease forming between her brows.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good,” he reassures. “It’s just nice out, so I thought I’d step out for a minute.”

She relaxes, looking out across the fields as he had done. Bucky lets himself watch her for a moment. Some of the summer heat has lasted, so it’s still fairly warm, even as the sun is on its way to setting. Wanda is wearing a dress. It’s burgundy, loose around her legs. She’s wearing black ankle boots and he watches as she leans forward just so on her toes, arms resting against the balcony railing as she breathes in the evening air. She’d gotten her hair trimmed recently, so it’s a little shorter than usual. Still, it moves in the breeze and Bucky has the urge to run his fingers through it.

He thinks back to Steve’s birthday, what Wanda said about Steve and Natasha holding back because they didn’t think they deserved to be happy. Bucky remembers how happy he’d been that night, once Wanda had taken his hand and he’d started to enjoy the fireworks. Bucky understands what Steve had been feeling. When Bucky thinks about a future for himself, he doesn’t usually picture being with someone. He has so much baggage, and it’s hard to believe that someone would want to be with him when sometimes it feels like he has more than just one person trapped inside his head. But he thinks about how much progress he’s made over the past year, and he thinks about Wanda.

She looks so beautiful standing next to him. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about what it would be like to be with her….but before now it had felt like nothing more than a dream or fantasy. Steve, _finally_ , had asked Natasha out about a month ago. Bucky looks over his shoulder through the sliding glass door. They’re sitting next to each other on one of the couches, fingers intertwined. They look so incredibly happy that Bucky thinks, why can’t he have that too? He looks back to Wanda and finds she’s already looking at him.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks, the tiniest hint of a smirk on her face, like she already has a pretty good guess.

            There’s still that small part of him that wants to run, that wants to brush the question off and continue on with her like normal. But he swallows down that fear and tries for honesty instead. “You.”

            There’s a flash of surprise in her eyes, but it goes away quickly. She waits, like she knows he wants to say more. And he does. He wants to tell her anything, everything. He starts with something easy.

            “I just want to thank you,” he starts, the words coming out in a rush, “properly, that is. For being here for me. You’ve helped me so much, and I honestly don’t think I’d be in this good of a place without you.”

            She turns her body towards him. “You’ve helped me too.”

            He smiles a little at that. Meeting her eyes, his heart pounds hard in his chest. She’s practically glowing in the evening sun, and he’s quickly losing his confidence, and possibly his ability to speak in coherent sentences.

            “I guess what I’m trying to say is that…you mean a lot to me, and I just keep thinking about what you said on Steve’s birthday, about holding back because of fear and being happy and I just—”

            “Bucky, Bucky,” she laughs, touching his arm, “slow down.”

            He takes a breath. “Sorry, I just…I’m, um, not very good at this. I used to be.” He chuckles nervously. “Or at least I think so. But, uh, that was a long time ago.”

            Wanda’s eyes are bright, sparkling, as she smiles at him. It’s fond and a little teasing at the same time, and Bucky knows that smile is pretty much going to be his downfall. “You were saying something about being happy?”

            Oh, _yeah,_ she’s definitely teasing him. He turns towards her, keeps his metal hand on the railing as he rubs his human one across the back of his neck. He looks down at the ground, trying to find the words. “I want…” _god,_ he just can’t spit it out. Then he has an idea. He looks back up at Wanda. “I want you to look in my head.”

            That startles her. She starts to shake her head, opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. One, two, three beats of his racing heart and she finds her voice. “Bucky—James, I can’t. I don’t want to risk it.”

            He takes her hand, squeezes gently. The way she did on the Fourth of July. “I trust you,” he says earnestly. “You know me. You know I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t mean it.”

            She’s still not convinced though. “My powers can be unpredictable. I’ve never looked at your mind before, not directly. I don’t know what will happen. If something goes wrong—I could trigger a blackout—”

            “You won’t,” he insists. “You’re strong, Wanda. You’re in control. _I trust you._ You won’t hurt me.” She’s still hesitating, brow wrinkled in concern. He takes both her hands, rubs the thumb of his metal hand in slow circles against her skin. “I want you to.”

            Another impossibly long moment and then she exhales slowly. She nods, taking a deep breath, taking one of her hands and reaching slowly for his face. “Only think about what you want me to see. I won’t look any further than that.” Bucky nods. He can hear her unspoken words. _I won’t look any further unless you want me to._ They could save that for another time, depending on how this went. And despite asking for this, Bucky freezes, every muscle in his body tensing with fear, uncertainty. He’s not afraid of Wanda’s powers. But maybe he’s still a little afraid she’ll see something that will scare her away, even after all this time.

            Before he can second guess himself, Wanda touches the side of his face. He sees her eyes glow red, then he feels the jolt of her power. Wanda must have set up a two-way street of some kind, because he can almost feel her struggling to control her powers at first. He can feel the red energy bucking against her control, threatening to highlight every dark corner of his mind. He tries to ignore it, tries to focus on the memories he wants her to see. And then like that everything calms at her end. She’s in perfect control.

            Bucky knows he’s outside. He can feel the last of the sunlight on his face, can feel the breeze rustling his hair. He can feel one of his hands in Wanda’s, his metal one wrapped around the balcony railing. But all of that feels far, far away. He closes his eyes, brings forth the memories and thoughts he wants Wanda to see. And he can see them playing back for her end. She looks through them slowly. Or at least it seems like forever. He’s sure that outside of his mind, it’s no more than seconds.

            He can see what he’s showing her, and this connection is…different. He doesn’t quite mind it. Though, it’s strange, seeing his memories through her eyes. She sees the memories from his childhood first, just little snippets he brought forth of him and a much skinnier, but just as scrappy Steve. He shows Wanda Steve’s eighteenth birthday. Bucky had been saving up money for a while and had bought Steve a new, high-quality sketchbook and pencils for art school. He can feel Wanda’s wonder as she watches the memory. Then just as fast, she’s filtering through the rest he’s given her. He shows her the war, but focuses on Steve and the Commandos, nights laughing around a campfire.

            He skips past the fall. He’s not ready to show her that yet, though he wonders if she can feel the emotions from it anyway, because he gets a twinge of sadness from her end. It’s gone just as quickly and they’re skipping past his time with Hydra as well. The memories slow as she focuses on the one of their first meeting in the hangar bay. It was a year ago, but Bucky remembers seeing her for the first time, the way she drew him in immediately, even though at the time he hadn’t really paid attention to it. In the memory she touches his metal arm for the first time and Bucky feels that touch the way she did—the shock of pain and anger and tragedy all wrapped up in one, only the barest flicker of light beneath it all.

            Bucky shows her more. She goes through them more quickly, but he knows she’s still taking each and every one in. He shows her their late night meet ups and sparring sessions, all the little conversations and moments of quiet they shared that slowly, but surely, has put him on the path to this better place. He shows her the night when she touched his metal arm, turned it over and over in her hands until he hated it a little less. Every little touch mattered, and he hopes she can feel what he’s feeling. He hopes she knows how human she makes him feel.

            He shows her the Fourth of July last. His heart somersaults in his chest just thinking about it, and he swears she responds in kind down the bond that’s temporarily tying them together. They watch the fireworks explode into the sky, and she takes his hand. He pours out every ounce of emotion from that night, that moment, and offers it to her. Bucky feels the pressure of her hand on his cheek and suddenly her power withdraws and he’s alone in his head once again. He opens his eyes, meets her gaze, wide on his face.

            They just stare at each other for a moment. Her thumb idly strokes his cheek. His human hand is still wrapped up in her other one. He lets go of the balcony railing, noticing out of the corner of his eye that his hand had left dents in the metal rail. He doesn’t have more than a second to pay attention to that, because all his focus is on Wanda. She’s watching him with her lips parted just so.

            “I just wanted you to know,” Bucky says roughly, “how much you mean to me.”

            “Thank you for showing me,” she whispers in return. “For trusting me with this.”

            He doesn’t know when his metal hand found its way to her waist, but he’s pulled her closer and now they’re standing only a few inches apart. The past 70 years—Hydra, all the pain and brainwashing and the blood and sorrow—he wishes he could take it back. He sometimes finds himself wishing that he’d just died when he fell. But if he had to live, if all of it was so he could live and meet _her_ , _see her_ , standing so beautifully before him, he thinks that maybe a little bit of it was worth it. He never thought he’d find someone else who would understand his suffering, but now he’s surrounded by people that have been through hell and stood taller for it. Steve, Natasha, Sam. Wanda. _Wanda._

            “Wanda,” he whispers out loud, knowing he’ll never get tired of saying her name.

            She smiles. “Bucky.”

            “I know I’m supposed to, uh, court you, and ask you out on a proper date and all that,” he laughs a little, “so excuse me for not being a proper gentleman, but I’d really like to kiss you.”

            For a heartbeat, then two, then three, she doesn’t say anything and he’s afraid he’s screwed it all up someone, but then she’s grasping his face in both her hands and reaching up on her toes to kiss him. He winds his metal arm around her waist, presses her flush against him. He reaches up with his other hand and runs his fingers through her hair, like he’s been wanting to do for ages, and it was definitely worth the wait.

            He knows that they’re not completely shielded from their friends on the inside, but he doesn’t care. Bucky’s heart is thundering in his chest, and he’s almost smiling too much to kiss her properly. He feels more alive than he has in over seventy years, and by the way Wanda slides a hand over his heart, rests it there, he knows she can tell.

            “I will take you out on a proper date,” he vows, pulling back just enough to get the words out.

            Wanda giggles, reflecting just how giddy he’s feeling on the inside. “Can’t wait.”

            The sparkle in her eyes is enough to pull him back in, so he pulls her close again and kisses her.

 


End file.
